Cure All
by Mira Cohen
Summary: A Devil Wears Prada Fic. Andy doesn't leave Miranda in Paris, her need for a stiff drink outweighing her desire to run away. Warning: eventual MirandaAndy romance. Disclaimer: don't own them.....very poor, please don't sue. New chapter up- yay!
1. Chapter 1

Andy had changed. Lily knew it. Nate knew it. Her parents, Doug, hell everyone knew it. Even she had begun to notice the differences in her character- she was more confident and self-assured. Physically she was a completely different person; her hair was sleek and shiny, she had learnt from Nigel how to wear designer clothes and make it look effortless. And she'd lost weight, not by any conscious decision, but from running around day after day and not to mention the sheer stress of her job.

Andy reasoned it was ok to change, to evolve, to grow. As long as she didn't sacrifice her morals or sense of self, then it was alright to like wearing couture, it was acceptable to devote endless hours of her life to something as 'frivolous' as a fashion magazine. And most of all, it was certainly ok to admire and respect Miranda Priestly. Nate didn't understand and a part of Andy suspected he was jealous. Jealous that she had grown up, that she had adult responsibilities and a tough yet glamorous job that, despite all the bullshit, Andy had grown to love. It was because of this that Andy didn't fight harder for them. As long as Nate was happy to stay the same and let life go on around them, they would never work out as a couple. So, she had let him go, as much for his sake for hers.

And so she found herself in a romantic restaurant in Paris with a man she barely knew. When the conversation came around to the topic of Miranda Priestly, she had resolutely defended the woman she thought she hated. And it had felt good doing so. It was nothing to do with the job, or sucking up to her boss, it was honest and heartfelt and completely unexpected. If she had a chance to think about it at the time, she probably would not have fallen into bed with Christian a few short hours later, but the dizzying combination of excellent wine and the bright lights of Paris had distracted her attention long enough tat she didn't dwell on the realization that she might like Miranda as a person, something she'd never thought possible. But instead she found herself, a mere 8 hours later, running wildly through the streets with a head that felt like it was hosting the world's largest drum appreciation convention.

All she could think about was how fragile and vulnerable Miranda had been last night as she spoke of her divorce and her fears for her children. She had cried. The strongest woman Andy had ever known had sat before her and cried and it had taken all of Andy's self resolve not to jump up from where she was sitting and grab Miranda into an embrace. But that would have been all kinds of inappropriate so she had just sat there, staring stupidly and taking notes as Miranda struggled to regain her composure.

When she had finally found Miranda and tried to tell her of Irv's plan to depose her, Miranda hadn't listened. Andy had sat with what felt like a stone sitting in her stomach. And then the unthinkable happened and Andy had watched as Miranda saved her own ass at the expense of her friend and confidante. Andy couldn't believe it. Had she really been so naive as to think that Miranda was just misunderstood and the subject of criticism and ridicule purely because people were jealous?

The rest of the banquet had passed in a blur of forced smiles and repressed anger as Andy dutifully followed Miranda as she made her rounds. It wasn't long before they were in the back of the Mercedes, en route to the next party. Andy had sulked and maintained a stony silence, staring out the window as Paris passed by. Miranda had been first to speak, managing to make a thank you sound like an insult as she praised Andy's attempts to tell her of Irv's scheme. Andy had pouted further, which prompted Miranda to try again 'I see a great deal of myself in you Andrea'. Andy had gritted her teeth and disagreed, she would never, could never have done that to Nigel. But Miranda stood her ground, pointing out that Andy had done something similar to Emily by coming to Paris. She was right, Miranda had pissed all over Nigel to save her job, Andy had had done the same to Emily whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Andy stopped listening as Miranda made a speech about business being a dog eat dog world and playing dirty was the only way to keep your head above water...sink or swim...blah blah blah. It had taken all of her mental strength not to get out of the car and run away, far away from Miranda, the magazine and the direction her life was taking. She nearly did it but at the last minute she had relented and followed her boss up the hotel steps. Besides, she needed a drink. Lots of drinks. So after fighting their way through the paparazzi and reporters and making a grand entrance, Andy left Miranda to talk about Armani's fall line with group after gaggling group of simpering fashionistas and navigated her way to the bar where she ordered a whiskey sour and a beer chaser, not caring if anyone saw, she knocked back the amber liquid and sucked down half of the designer beer the barman had placed in front of. It tasted horrible but it had the desired effect when, almost immediately, she felt a warm fog drift into her head. All she wanted was not to think for a while.

That was where Miranda had found her- propping up the bar at one of the most exclusive parties of the year. She hadn't been impressed, uttering a curt 'we're leaving now' and sweeping out into the lobby to wait for the car. They rode in total silence for entire journey back to the hotel. Miranda hadn't even looked at Andy such was her disgust.

Andy was in a blissful state of ignorance thanks to the alcohol coursing through her system. She tripped her way up the lobby steps, giggling at her own clumsiness and ignoring the looks of utter contempt that were being directed at her by a certain silver haired demon. The elevator ride passed in silence, Miranda standing with lips pursed and nostrils flaring while Andy swayed slightly on her feet, emitting the occasional hiccup. They arrived on their floor and Miranda stalked out of the car and disappeared straight into her room, slamming the door behind her and leaving Andy to fumble with her key card for a full five minutes before falling into her room. She had enough presence of mind to kick off her Jimmy Choos and wriggle out of her dress before dragging back the covers on her bed and collapsing onto the mattress.

She was asleep before her head hit the pillows.


	2. Chapter 2

Andy carefully opened one eye to squint at the alarm clock on the nightstand and promptly winced as a searing bolt of pain ripped through her head. She squeezed it closed again and lay back into the pillows, grimacing at the taste in her mouth. Her tongue felt like sandpaper and was securely fastened to the roof of her mouth. Her stomach felt like there were circus acrobats in there using her as a trampoline for their tumbling acts. She groaned and pulled the comforter over her head. She couldn't remember ever feeling this shit in her entire life. Her mind flashed briefly back to the barman measuring out one of the many shots of whiskey she'd consumed and she had to choke back a little vomit.

Andy felt like crying. She probably would have too, had there been any moisture left in her body. Taking deep breaths, she eased out from under the covers and slowly, very slowly, pulled herself into a sitting position. She waited two full minutes for her stomach to calm down and her hands to stop shaking before carefully opening both eyes. The room was spinning around her but Andy held on, taking a few more deep, even breaths until it came to stop. Although the curtains looked expensive and decadent, that was about the sum total of their purpose as they did little to keep the glaring early morning sun out of her room. They were like so many of the clothes she had seen on the runways that week; form over function.

After confirming the absence of another person in her bed and giving herself a mental high five, Andy let her gaze travel around the room; noting her dress from the night before hanging neatly in its dry cleaning bag and hanging off the wardrobe door. Andy's stomach dropped and then flipped over for good measure. Although she didn't remember much from last night, she was almost 100 sure that she had possessed nowhere near the dexterity required to put her dress on a hanger let alone zip it into a bag. She continued her assessment of the room, spotting her Jimmy Choos tucked neatly away beside her suitcase. Her eyes settled on the second nightstand, which up until yesterday had been home to the most fabulous arrangement of lilies Andy had ever seen. Only this morning they weren't alone. Sitting alongside the vase was a tall glass of water and what looked like a bottle of aspirin. Nestled between the two was a folded piece of paper.

Andy's hands shook once more and her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest it was thudding so hard. Reaching out slowly she plucked the paper from where it rested and reluctantly unfolded it. It was a note written on a piece of the fancy hotel stationary. The handwriting was unmistakable and, not for the first time that morning, Andy thought she was going to be sick.

_Andrea,_

_You are excused from the Philip Tracey launch this morning. I expect you to use the time to collect yourself and find some semblance of professionalism and sobriety._

_You will meet me in my suite at 12:30 sharp with my schedule for the next 5 weeks and my notes from yesterday's shows._

_That's all._

_Miranda Priestly_

Andy swallowed hard. Miranda had been in her room. She had seen the drooling, snoring mess that was Andy sleeping. She had hung up her dress, tidied her shoes and fetched her water and painkillers for the inevitable hangover. Then she'd left a note laced with barely concealed disgust and contempt. What the fuck did it all mean?!

Andy read the note again and checked the clock on the other nightstand. She had an hour and ten minutes exactly to shower, dress and kill her hangover. Grabbing the bottle of pills, she shook a hand full into the palm of her hand and knocked them back with a few gulps of water. After letting it all settle in her tummy, she shuffled her way to the bathroom and turned on the water for her shower, as hot as it would go.

Exactly an hour later she was standing in front of Miranda's door, hand raised ready to knock. Her head was still pounding but, mercifully, her stomach seemed to have settled down. Or at least it had until she'd arrived at her boss's suite. She mentally rehearsed the groveling apology she had composed whilst showering one more time. There was no doubt in her mind that Miranda was going to tear her limb from limb for her behavior yesterday. In fact, Andy was fully expecting to be fired on the spot as soon as she walked into the room. Nevertheless, she had worked on the most humble apology she could muster. Because she was sorry. She was _so_ sorry, and not just because she had a vicious hangover or was afraid of loosing her job, but because she had been so goddamn unprofessional. She had embarrassed herself, she had embarrassed Runway and worst of all, she had disappointed Miranda.

She had let down the one person who had shown faith in her, who, less than 24hrs ago had trusted her enough to let her guard down and show her true self to Andy. And what had Andy done in return? Well she had had acted like a spoilt five year old. Well, a five year old with a taste for bourbon maybe.

Sighing deeply, Andy bit her bottom lip and rapped twice on the door. A muffled 'come in' came from somewhere within the room. After sending up a quick prayer to every deity she'd ever heard of, she twisted the handle and slowly pushed the door open, ready to meet her fate.


	3. Chapter 3

Andy walked carefully into the living area of the suite, trying her best not to collapse into a heap of quivering hysteria

_Author's Note: Hi People!! I know it's been a lifetime since I updated here but long story short, my laptop was nicked and all my files therein. Then I pretty much just got lazy and lost all enthusiasm in the story. Recently tho, I read some of the best DWP fic EVER by the incredibly talented Telanu (sp?) which has inspired me to have another crack at this. I'll do better in my updating and thank you all for reading, reviewing and just keeping the faith in general!! Cheers, _

_Mico._

Andy walked carefully into the living area of the suite, trying her best not to collapse into a heap of quivering hysteria. Miranda was sitting much as she had been the night she had told Andy of her impending divorce except dressed this time, head to toe in immaculate and fabulous Versace, black of course. Sitting opposite her was Nigel. Her stomach dropped again for possibly the 5900th time that morning. Miranda was going to let her have it in front of Nigel; she was going to make sure there was a witness. Andy couldn't decide if this was a blessing or a curse. On the one hand, it meant that, hopefully, Miranda wouldn't engage in physical violence. On the other hand however, it meant by the time they arrived back in New York, everyone would know what went down- Andrea Sachs' disgrace would be global. She knew Nigel wouldn't enjoy informing the other minions at Runway of her fate but it would be expected from him by Miranda, the Queen of Dramatic and Bold Statements.

They were hunched over various prints and notes from the week's different catwalk shows and launches. It was like the day before had never happened for Nigel- he was there, as always, offering his input, noting Miranda's opinions and changes and carrying on like the dutiful second in command and consummate professional. It made Andy feel worse. She hadn't been the one who's career ambitions had been cruelly pulled from under her without warning- at the end of the day it was Nigel who deserved to go off the rails and enjoy a mini-bender in a hotel bar. But had he? No he had sucked it in and got on with it while she had galloped to oblivion on her moral high horse.

Andy's self-berating was interrupted by the sound of papers rustling and movement coming from her left. Nigel was gathering his notes and the photos into his briefcase having been dismissed by Miranda. He gave his no doubt soon-to-be former comrade in arms a look that was a mixture of pity, disappointment and a little sadness before stepping past her and slipping silently from the room.

Andy looked up at Miranda who had yet to acknowledge her presence. The silver head was still bent over her own meticulous notes. Her legs were crossed and one finger tapped thoughtfully on her lower lip. Finally, she looked up and pinned Andy with a fierce look.

'Sit'. She ordered. Andy gulped and scurried over to the chair opposite Miranda and sat with her back straight and head down, looking intently at her hands loosely folded on her lap. The seconds ticked by like days before the dragon lady spoke again. 'Look at me.' She demanded.

Andy raised her head slowly and was pinned by a pair of icy blue eyes. She wondered if the temperature in the room had dropped few degrees as she battled to suppress a full body shiver. Determined not to blink or look away, she tried to let her eyes do the talking- hoping against all hope her determination was not mistaken for defiance. The icy stare continued for what seemed like an eternity before the editor spoke again.

'Tell me, Andrea' she began, her voice barely above a whisper 'why I shouldn't have you marched from this hotel and placed on the first flight out of Charles De Gaulle?' Miranda tilted her head but did not break her gaze.

'Tell me,' she continued 'Why I should not pick up the phone and have you blacklisted in every newspaper, magazine and publishing house from New York to New Delhi?' Andrea didn't dare speak. She knew Miranda was only getting started and to utter a single word at this point would be suicidal, not that she hadn't already signed her own death warrant the night before. Nonetheless, she continued to meet Miranda's eyes and school her face into an expression of submission.

Miranda sighed and turned to look out the window, her shoulders dropping slightly. Andy blinked in surprise at her boss who was now wearing a similar expression to the one she had when Andy had walked in on her in her dressing gown; lost, upset and a little overwhelmed and she realized with a start that Miranda was waiting for her to respond.

'I...I won't apologise Miranda, because I know it will never be enough. And I won't offer you any excuses or attempts at justifying my behaviour because, I can't. At least not in a way that would satisfy you.' Andy faltered. Miranda had turned to look at her again only this time it was with a look of surprise and curiosity. Andy took that as her cue to continue.

'I know I have disappointed you, I have disappointed myself. I've embarrassed Runway and Elias Clarke. I...' Miranda lifted a hand, stopping Andy mid-sentence. Silence filled the room again, deafening Andy with its emptiness. Miranda swept her eyes around the room before settling them on her assistant once more.

'Andrea, your conduct last night was...unacceptable. And it confuses me. One moment you are tearing through Paris trying to warn me of my impending doom at the hands of that Folet character, the next you are abandoning your duties completely and drinking yourself to a stupour on company time' Miranda smoothed out the top of her pants and examined her newly manicured nails for a few moments before continuing. 'You have forced me into an uncomfortable situation' she finished letting out another deep sigh.

'Miranda, I can have my flights changed and be on a plane by dinnertime. My desk will be clear by the time you return to New York.' Andy tried to keep the tremble from her voice as she fought back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

'You will see out this week. On our return to New York you will go to Runway and clear your desk, then you will bring me the Book. That is all'. Miranda finished and leaned over to resume her perusal of the photographs.

Andy left the schedule and notes she had brought in an empty chair and disappeared from the room


	4. Chapter 4

The remaining few days of Paris Fasion Week passed in a blur of activity and mixed emotions for Andy

The remaining few days of Paris Fashion Week passed in a blur of activity and mixed emotions for Andy. She worked as hard as ever to ensure that Miranda made every one of the seemingly endless runway shows, collection launches and black tie soirees on her schedule. Every little detail was taken care of by the assistant and the whole operation ran like clockwork. Now and then she'd feel eyes on her and turn to catch Miranda staring at her with a weird look on her face. She never had time to dwell on it though, as one thing after another demanded her full attention.

In the blink of an eye she found herself back in a first class cabin, flying over the Atlantic Ocean. The relentless pace and emotional turmoil of the past week finally began to catch up on her and she was absolutely exhausted. Sleep was a luxury she could not afford however and she spent the flight compiling her notes into a coherent file for Emily and whoever would be replacing her. In truth, Andy was dreading arriving home to an empty apartment with nothing to do but contemplate her future.

After returning to her room following her 'talk' with Miranda, she had allowed herself a few moments to cry and mope, this brief indulgence in self pity had been followed with a flurry of list making and rough CV drafting and after half an hour, she had a somewhat sketchy plan of action for when unemployment kicked in. Then it was back to the hubbub of Paris where she had pushed everything but Miranda and Runway from her mind. Now, as New York loomed closer and closer with every passing air mile, a little bit more fear welled up in her.

Andy was nothing if not practical and every month she had been at Runway, a little bit of each paycheck went into what she had privately named her 'Miranda Contingency Fund'. It was in a bank account she had opened after her first week on the job, when she had spent every waking moment expecting to be fired on the spot. Now she had enough set aside that she could make her rent and live comfortably enough while between jobs, but not for long. A month was all she could manage, so if she was going to find a job, she would have to find one fast. That's assuming Miranda would 'let' her find another job. She had been to afraid to ask for a reference and even more scared still to ask her if she would be blacklisted by the entire City of New York and surrounding boroughs.

With a sigh and a heavy heart, Andy finished her last page of notes and saved the document to her hard drive. Closing down her laptop she set it on the empty seat beside her and turned to look out the window. Lost in thought, she didn't notice Nigel lift her laptop and slip quietly into the seat beside her.

'How you holding up Six?' he asked softly. She jumped slightly and turned to give him a crooked smile. Two days previously he had cornered her at a drinks reception for Luis Vitton and she had informed him of her impedning departure from Runway.

'Oh, you know me, I'll survive' she murmured. Miranda was only one row in front of them and Andy didn't want their conversation overheard.

'Yeah, you're a tough cookie all right,' he smiled fondly at her 'have you any idea what you're going to do when we get back to NYC?'

'Well, the last few nights I have been having this reoccurring fantasy where my alarm goes off at 6am on Monday morning, but instead of jumping out of bed, I hit it off, roll over and sleep in 'til 11...' Andy grinned. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a lie in and vowed to treat herself to one full day of lounging in her pajamas, eating take out in bed and watching bad TV before she put her nose to the grindstone and began her job hunt.

'My dear girl, sleep is overrated. One can slumber when one has shuffled off this mortal coil' Nigel huffed, his haughty tone betrayed by a barely concealed look of envy.

'Yeah, well that might be sooner than you'd think. I might never find another job and then what? I might end up starving to death, a mangy squatter in some godforsaken tenement in the Bronx or somewhere' Andy paused and looked thoughtfully at Nigel 'on the plus side though, I'd probably _finally_ be a size zero' she smirked.

'Well,' breezed Nigel 'every cloud and all of that…'

From the row in front, Miranda strained her already super-human hearing to the limit as she tried to follow the hushed conversation. She had been absorbed in her own work- she had decided to start scribbling down an outline for the editor's letter which would accompany the April issue Of Runway while the buzz of Paris was still fresh in her mind and had no intention of eavesdropping on the whispered talk behind her when out of the chatter she heard Andy utter the words 'reoccurring' and 'fantasy', which, for some reason Miranda did not wish to entertain, derailed her concentration thoroughly.

Picking up the thread of conversation, she rolled her eyes at her soon to be former first assistant's attempt at humour. Starve to death in squalor? And people called _her_ a drama queen! She continued listening but her attention quickly wandered as the conversation behind her moved on to more mundane subject matter and, not for the first time that week, Miranda found herself contemplating returning to Runway without Andrea. It had been troubling her consistently, always there in the back of her head while she'd been mingling with celebrities or watching stick insects draped in various fabrics and accoutrements traipse down catwalks.

However was she going to cope without the girl's talents? Andrea's effortless organization of her punishing schedule, her anticipation of her every move, and her skill at trouble shooting…all this had made her one of the most important people in Miranda's life, professionally speaking.

She had started to notice how countless insignificant peons would bend over backwards to get something done for Andrea- waiters and waitresses, drivers, copy boys, florists- an endless parade of nameless players who would go the extra mile for her assistant, the reward of a smile and a kind word being their only motivation. It was poles apart from her own tactics of intimidation and threats yet Miranda couldn't argue with Andrea's approach- it was effective in its own way and more often than not got the desired results.

Miranda leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes. The conversation behind her appeared to have concluded and she wondered if Andrea was sleeping now. They would be landing in just over an hour and while Miranda was due to be whisked off to her townhouse to rest and get over her jetlag and fatigue after the hectic week, Andrea would have to get into a grubby cab. Her last hours as an employee of Runway would be spent sitting alone in a darkened and empty office waiting for design to hand over the Book. The thought stirred something deep inside Miranda, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. It sat heavy in her stomach, like a stone and unsettled her to the point of distraction. Giving herself a mental shake she slipped a pair of headphones over her perfectly coiffed hair and tried to loose herself in Tchaikovsky.

It didn't work…

TBC

_**AN: Thanks everyone who's picked up the story again and left comments, you rock! Just to let you know, I'm away fro the weekend so next update won't be up 'til probably early next week.**_


	5. Chapter 5

Tired, bushed, drained, jaded, knackered, exhausted, trés fatigué

_**AN:**_

_**It's a little short I know but just wanted to put something up and keep the momentum going on this. A weekend of excess has killed off a significant amount of brain cells so I apologise for the quality of this chapter ;) **_

Chapter 5

The remainder of the flight from Paris passed without incident and before Andy knew it, the Runway entourage had landed, sailed through customs collected their bags without incident and promptly and very efficiently disbanded in a flurry of couture and matching Diane Von Furstenberg luggage sets. Nigel had given her a brief if somewhat awkward hug and promised to call her in a few days. Miranda had rattled off a list of things she wanted Andy to bring from office when she was delivering the Book, climbed into her town car and disappeared. One by one the group had grown smaller and smaller until eventually Andy was left standing forlornly outside the terminal trying to snag a taxi into the city. She had never felt so lonely in her life.

After an uneventful ride from the airport, Andy was relieved to find the Runway offices were deserted when she arrived at the Elias Clarke building. It didn't take long to clear her desk- once she overcame the urge to thoroughly pilfer every bit of stationary she could get her hands on that is. All really needed to take were a few notebooks and her lucky pen, all of which she stuffed into her purse. She deliberated over whether to take the beautiful potted orchid that currently took up one corner of her desk home to brighten up her apartment but eventually decided against it, reasoning that her replacement would probably appreciate its relaxing presence more than she would, not to mention the fact that she had never successfully been able to keep house plants before, though not for lack of trying. Unfortunately all Andy had to show for her horticultural efforts was a large collection of dirt filled flowerpots, which were void of any kind of herbaceous life. She had even managed to kill 3 different type of cactus while she was away at college, a feat that had both baffled and impressed her roommate.

Once packed, she booted up her laptop and emailed Emily all her Paris notes, the changes Miranda had made to her schedule for the next few weeks and some other bits and pieces of info. That done, there was nothing left for her to do but sit and wait. It was 8.55pm in New York but Andy's body clock was still on Paris time, which meant for her it was more like 3am. She mentally flipped through her inner thesaurus as she struggled to find a word that accurately described how she was currently feeling and gave up, glumly concluding there wasn't a collection of letters in existence that could do her current condition justice. Her eyes felt like they were filled with sand and might roll out of their sockets at any moment. When she moved it felt like she was trying to wade through molasses and her brain seemed to have switch on to some sort of 'power-save' mode. She was fairly sure that if she didn't get some sleep soon, she might possibly die.

Rocking slightly in her chair, Andy's thoughts meandered here and there, disordered and random. Would she be able to find a job at a paper or magazine? Should she stay on in the apartment she had shared with Nate now that he'd moved out or find somewhere else? Would Nigel notice if she kept the Chanel boots she had borrowed from the closet? Would tonight when she delivered the book be the last time she ever saw Miranda Priestly in person again? Would the silver haired editor she even be up when Andy called to the house?

On and on her brain ticked in a sort of fatigue induced hysterical frenzy. She was so inside her own head that a gentle tap on her shoulder from Josh, one of Elias Clarke's many fresh faced interns, nearly sent her out of her chair and through the ceiling with fright.

"Sorry Andy, didn't mean to scare you but I have the Book for you" he apologized. Andy took a deep breath to settle herself and offered him a quick smile.

"It's ok, Josh, I'm ok…just a little…my nerves are a little frayed of late and I didn't hear you come in." She gathered up her bag and coat as she spoke. Giving her desk and the office one last sweep of her eyes to ensure she had everything she needed, Andy took the Book from the young intern and after mumbling a quick 'thanks' and 'good night', walked out of the Runway offices for the last time. After wondering all week what the moment would feel like, Andy couldn't help but find it a little anti-climatic as she boarded the elevator car and punched the button for the ground floor.

The traffic was, for once, mercifully light and in no time at all, Roy was pulling up outside Miranda's town house. Glancing at the digital clock on the dashboard, she noted guiltily that it was coming close to 11pm.

"Roy, you don't need to hang around, I'll take a cab home" she called to the driver as she undid her seatbelt.

"You sure Miss Sachs?" Roy didn't like the idea of the young woman having to wait on a cab this late but there was no telling how long the Dragon Lady would keep her trapped in her lair and Roy really, really wanted to get home to his wife.

"I'm positive Roy, go on get out of here" she climbed out of the car "oh, and Happy Anniversary!" she added before pushing the door shut and stepping back from the curb. Roy smiled at Andy's good wishes. He had mentioned in passing weeks ago that his 5th wedding anniversary was coming up. He wasn't surprised she had remembered, it was just one of a million little things that made her, without doubt, his favourite of all Miranda's assistants.

Andy waved him off and turned for the house. Trudging towards the house, it felt like she was wearing lead boots. Everything suddenly felt heavier; her bag, her legs, the Book she was carrying…her heart. She froze mid-step and nearly fell backwards. Catching herself she turned to face the street and all but collapsed onto Miranda's front steps. Shivering slightly from the cold stone beneath her, she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees.

It was as if the proverbial light bulb had pinged to life over her head. She had a pain in her heart, an ache. Not because she was out of a job or anxious about her future but because she was leaving _her_. Miranda. A woman who she had come to respect, admire and appreciate like no other. A woman who had taught her, without Andy even realizing, more in one year than she had learnt in high school and college put together. A woman, who had tested, pushed and challenged her constantly, day after day, week after week. A woman who, Andy now realized, she was head over heels crazy in love with.

Fuck.


End file.
